Lost in Darkness
by Gina Trujillo
Summary: Who was Jack when he was alive? This story tells the tale of the past he has long forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

Many stories are told over and over again, timeless and ageless, surviving countless seasons. These stories shall never die and their souls will carry on forever.  
  
However, some tales are forgotten, and some are never told. Some drift off into nothingness, lapsing from the conscious minds of even those who lived them. Some just become...  
  
~ ...Lost in Darkness ~  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ Part 1 of 4 ~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
The day dawned with a clear sky and a light Spring breeze that ruffled the sails and flags of the ships that had been waiting in the harbor. It had been a long, hard winter for the land and the sea, as both had been riddled with nearly constant storms and harsh winds.  
  
Yet the past months seemed almost but a dream on this day, as songbirds stirred from their sleeping placed and chirped happily for all to hear. That is, if anyone were to bother to listen. Most everyone about the docks had been busy since dawn's first gray light, preparing half a dozen ships for a long voyage of great importance. The men all shouted, cursed, and laughed at one another as they worked, most of them anxious to get back out onto the ocean once again.  
  
Once young man, however, was taking in as much of the Spring morning as he could. Walking slowly, he listened to the bird's songs, felt the sun's rays upon his face, watcher butterflies dance about the just waking tree branches... and all he could think of was that he would soon have to leave it. He would have to leave it all behind for months upon months. The sea would carry him away upon a great ship, and, oh, how he would miss land.  
  
Pausing by a tree, he plucked a few of the small leafs from their branch. Ink-stained fingers then carefully opened the pages of the hard cover book grasped under his arm. Before he could place the leafs between the pages for safekeeping, the book was snatched from his grasp. He spun, glaring, to face the redheaded brute who'd just managed to sneak up on him.  
  
"Give that back, Andrew!" He tried to take the book back, but it was quickly pulled from his reach.  
  
Andrew was not alone. At his back were at least a dozen others, most of them equally large and strong. They laughed in amusement at the failed attempts to retrieve the book.  
  
'Simple minds, simple pleasures.' The young man mentally reminded himself. He unslung his large bag from his shoulder, setting it carefully upon the ground, so that he could use both hands in trying to get his book back.  
  
Andrew quickly flipped the parchment pages open, chuckling already. "Let's see whut kine'a thin's our scribe's been-a-writin' than no'un kin see!" He started to read aloud from the book, in spite of being ordered to stop many times by the writer.  
  
"The dragon towered o'er him!" Andrew read in an overly dramatic manner that butchered the words. The writer tried time and time again to retrieve the story before much of it could be read, but Andrew kept twisting and turning, always avoiding his attempts while still reading on. "Teeth 'ike-a swords 'n claws-a daggers! 'is wings pounced th'air, a'most throwin' the war-yor off'is feet! 'e made eet clear that no'un would pass!  
  
"Fear gripped the war-yor, but 'e be daunted by th'beast, not affa comin' this far! Quick azza flash of light'ning, his hand gripped 'is sword. The blade zipped through th'air, bounced offa the dragon's tuff hyde. This would be-a ruff bat'le, but Jack woul never give up!"  
  
The crowd of men broke into laughter once more.  
  
"Jack?!" Andrew asked between his chuckling, "Y'writin' a story 'bout y'self? Azza hero?"  
  
The young scribe was finally able to snatch his book back. He could feel his face turning read as a rose. "One can dream, can't he?" He tried to defend himself.  
  
"Aye, one kin." Andrew replied, laughing still, "An' that's all y'kin d, Jack. You keep a-dreamin', laddie. But it ain't never gonna happen!"  
  
"Maybe you're right." Jack said, taking into account the double negatives.  
  
"Course I am!" Andrew said, walking past Jack and adding, "Y'kint e'en ussa sword!"  
  
"I could if someone would just teach me!" Jack called after him as the others all laughed and prodded at him on their way past. A great sigh welled up in Jack's chest. He pulled his bag back onto his shoulder and continued onward, head hung.  
  
Minutes later, Jack's heavy boots were making their way across the deck of the hip known as "Banewake." The vessel belonged to his uncle, Captain Jacob, and it had a reputation for taking on dangerous missions.  
  
Jack looked like he was the last person who'd be found aboard this ship, being very tall and thin, with hardly any muscle on him at all. His hair was jet black, hanging to just past his shoulders, and it was slightly curly. He would usually keep it tied back so it wouldn't be in his way. His face was clean-shaven whenever he could manage it, and he'd go to great lengths to do so. His eyes were a very deep brown, yet they appeared black at times, in contrast to his skin, which was very pale from long summer days spent indoors. He had no real scars to speak of. No tattoos. No distinctive markings. He wore his clothing loosely fit, mostly because of his thinness. While usually practical, he couldn't resist throwing in a bit of a theatrical flare to his attire now and then, whenever he could get away with it.  
  
By all truth, Jack looked more as though he should be a traveling bard who sits in taverns or at fairs and tells great tales to all who will listen. Perhaps he should have followed this path instead, but he didn't. With sailing, he at least knew where his next meal was coming from, and it was an almost steadily paying job. Truth be known, he knew too little of sailing. He'd watched everything that happened on the ship, but he never took part, for that was just his job. He was the scribe for "Banewake," nothing more, nothing less. It was his job to document the passing days and months at sea, then write reports on the venture for the King, or which ever person may be paying for the job at the time.  
  
This time around, it would be the King who Jack would write his report for. The crew of "Banewake," along with her sister ships, had been charged with the task of hauling weaponry and other supplies overseas to a place where a great war had been raging on for months upon months. By far, it was not the most dangerous mission the "Banewake" and her sisters had taken. While the captains all had a taste for adventure and danger, the price the King would pay was more then enough to convince them to take on this 'tame mission.'  
  
Jack made his way down into the ship, finding the familiar bunk he'd so often slept in. He would describe it, in his poetic fashion, as being 'cozy, in need of small adjustments, but more than suitable.' What this really meant was that it was very small, uncomfortable, but he had nothing to complain about, as he had been given one of the few private rooms in "Banewake." Most of the other cabins slept at least four people, but because Jack often stayed awake till all hours with his writings, he was allowed a room with but one other bunkmate, who never complained.  
  
His bunkmate was already there. He was lying upon the lower bunk, looking as if he were about to fall asleep. One of his dark eyes slowly opened.  
  
Jack smiled, "Hello, Zero! How are you doing?"  
  
Zero barked in reply. The little white and gray terrier mix-breed then leapt off the bed and ran about jack's ankles as he hoisted his bag onto the bunk. Jack had owned Zero for years, and while the dog was growing old, he still had the energy of a pup.  
  
The dog followed close behind Jack as the man headed back onto deck to talk to his uncle.  
  
Captain Jacob was a tall, strong, and very hansom man, in spite of the scar that ran along the right side of his face. While his hair was much the same as Jack's, very dark and wavy, the Captain had somehow been blessed with bright green eyes, and his skin was of a darker tone. In the past, the two had been mistaken for brothers -even twins- very often, but it was becoming a less and less common assumption. Jack was becoming paler and Jacob was beginning to acquire more of the wrinkles about the eyes that sailors often get from squinting into the wind. This made the Captain look more his age now.  
  
Captain Jacob was the only family that Jack knew. His mother had died during childbirth, and his father was with him for less than seven years after that. He's been killed in battle, a war in some far off land his son couldn't remember the name of, fighting for some cause that would never actually be understood by Jack. All of the vague memories of it had been scratched from his mind as a lad. His uncle raised him, and he was a kind man for the most part, and so Jack had been rather content with life. Or so he told himself he was. If it was the truth or not, he wouldn't admit.  
  
Jack found Captain Jacob on deck, in the process of making sure everything was in order before they shoved off.  
  
"Captain, I wanted to ask-"  
  
"Not a word of it, Jack." The Captain interrupted before Jack could say much, "I know what you're gonna ask, 'cause you've been askin' it every other day for the past three years! I'm going to give you the same answer I gave you the last few hundred times, too! No! I'm not teaching you the sword!"  
  
Jack hated when his uncle would do that... guess what was about to be said. More than that, he hated when the man was right in his guess. Something about it was very creepy.  
  
"But, uncle, I'm ready! I can do it!"  
  
"No, you're not, and no, you can't!"  
  
"Then when?" Jack asked in frustration, "When will I be ready?"  
  
The Captain fixed him with a blank stare, sighed, and then started giving the orders to hoist anchor.  
  
"When?" Jack pressed on.  
  
"We can't talk about this right now, Jack!" The Captain turned on his heels and left quickly.  
  
The day's sail went smoothly, "Banewake" skimming lightly over the water with her five sister ships tailing. The destination would take at least a month to reach. Two months round trip, give or take a week, plus whatever time they'd have to stay at the next dock. That could very, depending on many things. The bottom line was, by the time they pulled back into port, spring would be near over. A depressed sigh welled in Jack's chest at this thought.  
  
The night was dragging long. He'd finished his documenting for the day's events, and then written in his book until a bit of writer's block struck him. At this time, he began idly tickling his own face with his tattered old feather quill until an idea or sleep would come to him. Neither did. Not for some time. The rocking of the ship had not been kind to him throughout the day. The long winter stuck inland must have taken its toll upon him, as his seasickness was worse than ever before. Then again, he was always seasick the first few days out. It didn't matter how long he was sailing for, a few days inland, and he'd lose his sea-legs again.  
  
"Why am I even out here?" He asked the darkness. As always, the darkness didn't reply.  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ 


	2. Chapter 2

~ ...Lost in Darkness ~  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ Part 2 of 4 ~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
The break of day brought little comfort, and it found Jack bent over the ship's railing. He'd slept a collective three hours all night, and was not in the best of spirits. To make things worse, the other crewmembers were making him the butt of their jokes once again. He'd learned over the years to ignore such foolish taunts and wisecracks, but today was a different story.  
  
By noontime, Jack struck Andrew across the face from pure frustration. Naturally, the brute of a man did not take this lightly. The scribe left the scuffle with a blackened eye and some badly bruised ribs, while Andrew was no worse for the wear. While he may not have won the fight, this seemed to get Jack's point across, as the relentless harassment stopped for a few days time.  
  
It was well into he fifth day at sea before Jack confronted his uncle about the swordplay again. He met with him inside the captain's quarters, and asked his question swiftly, before any guesses would be made as to what he'd say. "Why won't you teach me?"  
  
Captain Jacob only half-glanced up from his map. He pointed to Zero, who stood at Jack's side. "Get that mutt out of my chamber." He said, his gaze dropping back down to his work. The captain had never much liked Zero, but the dog had a strange, cat-like habit of catching mice and even rats, so he let the creature stay on board.  
  
Jack ushered his dog outside, then waited in vain for an answer to his question. When there was no reply, he asked again, more insistently this time. "Why won't you teach me the sword?"  
  
"I told you, you're not ready." The Captain replied, not bothering to look up.  
  
"When? When will I be ready? What must I do? Whatever it is, I'll do it!"  
  
His uncle's green eyes lifted to met with his own. He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, it was slow and cautious, "Jack. You are not ready now. You will not be ready in a month. You will not be ready in a year. You will not be ready in this lifetime! Do you understand me?"  
  
"No, I don't!" Jack replied, greatly offended. "What makes you think I'm not ready?"  
  
The Captain leaned back in his chair, "Look at you, boy." He motioned to his nephew with both hands, "I'll wager you couldn't even swing a sword if your life depended on it! Not with those arms of yours. You're so thin and weak. You're practically a walking skeleton!"  
  
Jack jerked back at this, nearly screaming his words now, "Walking skeleton?! And who's to blame for that? If you would give me a job other than scribe, I would get stronger!" His tone changed to almost pleading, "If you'll not teach me the sword, then please, teach me-"  
  
"Teach you to sail?" Captain Jacob interrupted, "I tried, Jack! Did you forget?"  
  
"I was a foolish child then!" Jack protested, "I'm willing to learn now! If I learn to sail, then I'll become stronger and you can-"  
  
"No, Jack." The Captain interrupted again, "I'll not teach you. Anything! Understand?"  
  
"Why not?" Jack pressed on.  
  
His uncle snapped back at him before his statement was even finished, "Because you're hopeless!"  
  
Jack felt as if someone had just taken a well-sharpened knife and sunk it into his back up to the hilt. Each and every word that followed was a twist of that imaginary blade.  
  
"I'll not waste my time trying to train someone who can't learn! I tried teaching you to sail! Your father tried teaching you the sword! I'll not throw more effort away on you! You're grown now, Jack! It's time you stopped dreaming and face reality! You are now what you will be the rest of your life, and that's a freeloading, good-for-nothing nephew who can't do a thing right! In fact, if not for the promise I made to your father, I'd have thrown you off the crew a long time ago!"  
  
Jack slammed the door as hard as he possibly could on his way out. Those would be the last word he ever heard his uncle say.  
  
The night was full of angry writings and idle threats scribbled onto parchment. Jack didn't even bother to write up the day's report. He lay in his bunk for hours glaring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the waves and the light sound of Zero's breathing. An occasional tear would streak down his face, unchecked by any sort of feeling that he should not cry. He felt as if his whole world was crashing down around him, and trying to repress his feelings wasn't going to work tonight.  
  
"Walking skeleton, indeed!" He scoffed at the words his uncle had spoken. He lifted his arm and wrapped his long fingers about his own wrist, sighing as he could overlap his thumb and index finger slightly. He slumped and gazed back into the darkness, whispering to it, "What am I doing here?"  
  
And, as before, the darkness would heed no reply.  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ 


	3. Chapter 3

~ ...Lost in Darkness ~  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ Part 3 of 4 ~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
There came a loud, splintering crash in the night, and Jack was thrown from his bunk. A gust of air hit him, and the corner of his room looked as though it had caved in. Without a second thought, Jack darted up on deck, Zero at his heels.  
  
The sky was pitch black, covered in dark clouds. From where he stood, he could barely see the bow of the ship. A riot of panicked voices filled the foggy air.  
  
"What's going on?" He asked whoever might hear.  
  
Andrew, who had been running past, paused for a moment to ramble off quickly, "We're under attack! Think eet's pirates, but we kin't see 'em through-a fog!" The large man then darted off.  
  
The whole ship jerked and shuddered as cannon balls hit her hull and crashed into surrounding waters. Return fire was being sent into the mist from the many cannons on board "Banewake," but there was no real way of telling if they met their target or not.  
  
A splintering crack sounded as a bombardment of cannon balls crashed upon the hull and a good mid-section of the mast was reduced to tinder. The ship banked sharply to port from the force, and sent Jack tumbling back onto the deck. Just as he was starting to get to his feet, the mast came crashing down, dipping the starboard bow low as it destroyed parts of the deck.  
  
Shouts of panic erupted. "Banewake" was taking on water! The crew scrambled for buckets while many stayed to man the cannons, but all knew it wasn't likely to matter in the end. Still, they were not going down without a fight!  
  
Amid all the chaos of trying to keep the vessel afloat and sink the unseen attacker, even the booming voice of Andrew went unheard as he shouted, "Man o'erboard! Man o'erboard!"  
  
When the mast caused the ship to bank, it had sent Jack, and God knows who else, catapulting over the ship's rails. The scribe hit what the thought to be -from the feel of it- a brick wall. It turned out he'd landed, flat back first, in the frigid ocean. Before he could do anything, Jack found himself pulled beneath "Banewake." The sharp barnacles that had gathered there over the ears wasted no time at ripping his flesh. Like the jaws of some hungry beast, the waves slammed the poor man into the underside of the ship again and again. He finally managed to push away, and the waves seemed to grip him tightly, tugging like mad in all directions until he could hardly tell what way was up. His lungs were pleading for air and his wounds screaming as the salt water stung them. He gave a few good kicks and managed to break the surface of the water.  
  
The same riot of shouts amid cannon fire reached his ears. Gratefully, he took in huge gasps of air as he dragged his bruised and bleeding body onto a splintered plank that was floating past. The deep voice of Andrew lifted above all else for a moment. "Jack! I'll throw ya a rope, lad! 'Ang on!"  
  
Jack lifted his gaze to the deck of the ship, which seemed so impossibly far away. Zero was barking like mad, pacing back and forth by the ship's rail. Andrew let a towline fly. The rope hit the water not far from where Jack was, but it quickly sank beneath the waves, amid an onslaught of cannon fire.  
  
Jack lunged after his only hope, disregarding all else. Frantically, he searched for the rope within the dark waters, but the waves seemed to be against him, forcing him farther away from the ship. A matter of minutes dragged on for hours in his mind as continued his search, which was ultimately fruitless.  
  
His lungs ready to burst, he resurfaced for breath. His muscles screamed and his eyes burned, wounds stung and breath heaved within his chest. Still he struggled to reach the ship as it pressed onward into the thickening fog.  
  
Suddenly, there was a great splash as something fell from the ship. Jack's gaze jerked upwards just in time to see Andrew slowly remove his bandana and place it to his chest. Even this was difficult to see through the mist, and a mere moment later, "Banewake" was but a vague silhouette drifting farther and farther away from him.  
  
A horrible, hollow feeling settled inside of Jack. He found another piece of debris and clung to it as he tried to gather his thoughts, but no amount of gathering was going to help. Not this time.  
  
Zero suddenly pulled himself from the waters, scrambling up onto the board and crouching down low. The dog whimpered at his master.  
  
"Zero!" Jack said in a shocked whisper, realizing that the dog must have leapt off of the ship, "You fool of a mutt! Why didn't you stay on board? You could have lived! Now we're both doomed, you... you... Why must you be so loyal?"  
  
The sounds of the cannons drew ever more distant, and all hope was departing with those thundering explosions, leaving the two castaways to float helplessly within the fading wake of what the scribe now thought to be a painfully well named ship.  
  
Jack let his forehead rest upon his hand, choking out a final word to the darkness before his voice gave way to sobs, "Why?"  
  
And, once again, the darkness refused to weave an answer.  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ 


	4. Chapter 4

~ ...Lost in Darkness ~  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ Part 4 of 4 ~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
"Who knew it would come to this?" Jack asked Zero.  
  
The two were still afloat on the ocean, although just barely, it seemed. The scrap of flotsam they were clinging to was being forced just below the waves by the weight upon it.  
  
The night had been long and hard, with no rest for either of the two. Now, as the sun lifted higher into the sky, there was still little to no hope within Jack's heart. While he'd pulled himself up onto the board as much as he could, the salt water was still constantly bathing his wounds.  
  
"I wish I'd known this was going to happen. I never thought I'd die before I reached thirty years." He paused and then shrugged, "True, I was only a few years off. But I had plans for those years! I wish I could have finished my book. Built a house for myself, maybe..." He prattled on now and then, as his talking seemed to calm Zero. He spoke of things that had happened, and things he wished had come to be. But as the day dragged on, he decided that none of it was truly important anyway. The sun beat down on him relentlessly, magnified by the surrounding waters.  
  
The night tide was not a calm one in the least. Zero whimpered almost constantly, and Jack did his best to calm him.  
  
"What did I do to deserve this?" He whispered to the darkness, again receiving no answer.  
  
The following day was just as torturous, if not more so than the day before. The sky was now dotted with clouds, and they brought with them a hauntingly cold wind. Shivering, Jack tried to keep his eyes upon the horizon in search of anything. He knew that they were too far out to find land, but he prayed for a ship, or even some creature of the seas, as not a single one had he laid eyes upon. The only thing he could see in the distance were gray storm clouds, and he dreaded what he knew was to come that night.  
  
"I've still open wounds." Jack thought aloud in a desperate voice, "Why won't some merciful shark come and luck me from the waves? Just end it now..."  
  
This wish was not granted. When night closed in, it was darker than any night either castaway had ever seen. Within the pitch-blackness, a horrid storm hit. The waves thrashed madly, tossing the two about. Jack clung desperately to both the board and his dog. As he was thrown about and plunged beneath the water repeatedly, his body seemed to go numb. He almost wasn't conscious of what was going on. All he could think was that he didn't want for it to end this way. Not here. Not yet.  
  
He didn't want it lay in the depths of the ocean for all eternity, one of the many lost souls condemned to becoming fish food. If, by some chance, he did wash up on shore, no one who happened upon him would know who he was. They may not even care to bury him. If nothing else, it would be to keep his carcass from being litter on the beach. A shallow, unmarked grave would be the best he could hope for.  
  
He remembered Andrew slowly removing his bandana as he disappeared into the fog. It was very dramatic, and the man knew that Jack had a flare for such things. A kind gesture, but Jack wondered if he would really be remembered by anyone. Andrew might remember, and maybe miss tormenting him. His uncle, he figured, may be glad to be rid of him. That is, assuming they survived... Before long, he would be forgotten. He knew it.  
  
Another lost soul...  
  
And, perhaps, he was ready to embrace that fate. Just so he wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore. Just to keep from having to spend another day lost on the ocean, clinging to debris like a drowning rat. He just wanted it to be over... one way or another.  
  
He had given up...  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ ... not over yet...~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
Story © Gina Trujillo, 2003. Jack Skellington and all related characters © Tim Burton. 


	5. Alternate Ending

Ok, lots of you weren't happy with the way this story ended before. For that matter, neither was I. So here's the ending that should have been here all along... _________________________________________________________________  
  
~...Lost in Darkness~  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ Alternate Ending ~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
Another lost soul...  
  
The world slowly came back to Jack's mind. The waves had become less violent, and the rain had let up.  
  
He'd survived the storm...  
  
And he almost didn't care...  
  
He thought to open his eyes, or to lift his head. The effort seemed too much. He still had Zero held close, although he was unsure if the dog was still alive or not.  
  
Once again, Jack asked his question to the darkness. "Why an I still here?" No real reply came, but he suddenly felt something against his foot...  
  
Jack's eyes snapped open to see the first gray light on the horizon... and land! Right there in front of him was a beach, with trees and plants and a huge mountain behind it all.  
  
Disbelieving his good fortune, Jack found the strength to kick a bit farther until he'd pulled himself onto land. The cool sand felt both wonderful and horrible all at once as it pressed against his sunburned skin.  
  
He laughed as he lay there upon his stomach. "We did it, Zero... We did it!" Jack said in a hoarse voice. Zero's tail wagged weakly in reply.  
  
There came a sudden noise from just within the shadows of the trees. A gruff voice spoke out, "Hur, you'm be tawkin' in'e s'eep, agin!"  
  
There was a grunt that followed the sound of someone being kicked.  
  
"B'ain't tawkin'! Weren't me!" Another voice chimed in.  
  
"T'were sumeun'." A third voice stated.  
  
More and more voices joined into the argument very quickly as the whole of the encampment was awakened by the turmoil. Jack pressed himself to the ground, unsure of who these people were. In a way, he hoped they'd find him, while something made him pray he'd not be seen. Too weak to move to a better hiding place, he knew it was unlikely he'd go overlooked for very long.  
  
Sure enough, A voice piped up, "Lookie thur! Whuzzat?"  
  
Lamplight soon bathed Jack and Zero. The dog growled and struggled to stand, ultimately failing.  
  
With considerable effort, Jack turned his eyes upward to the men towering over him. A smile spread across his face as he recognized them. They were members of the crew of 'Breakbone,' sister ship to the 'Banewake.'  
  
Once man knelt beside Jack, " 'oo are ye?"  
  
"Jack Skellie." The young man choked out, "Scribe for the 'Banewake.'"  
  
The man knelling over him jumped back in surprise. "Banewake?" He exclaimed. A murmur of the name resounded through the camp.  
  
"A survivor?" An astonished voice came from within the crowd.  
  
"Be thur others?" Someone asked.  
  
"I... I don't know." Jack replied, "Banewake'... did she sink?"  
  
"Aye." Came the reply.  
  
Tears welled in Jack's eyes, "Then I... I may be... the only one..."  
  
A voice Jack knew belonged to the captain of 'Breakbone' chimed in, "Just you survived, lad?"  
  
Jack nodded as best he could. "Yes." He breathed.  
  
"Good." Jack heard the captain say just before all consciousness was lost.  
  
~  
  
Good...?  
  
Why would the captain say such a thing?  
  
Something was very wrong here. Jack couldn't open his mouth. It hurt to try. His lips seemed to tug at each other when he tried to move them.  
  
Jack lifted his head, blinking in the sunlight. He tried to lift a hand to feel his mouth, only to find his hands had been bound. He was sitting on the ground tied securely to a tree.  
  
Dark eyes searched his surroundings. He was in the midst of the encampment now. The sailors around him paid him little mind, going about their business. Jack's eyes turned upward towards the sun. He'd been unconscious for hours now.  
  
As he started to gather his mind once more, the full impact of everything started to settle in. There was no doubt now, the 'Banewake' was gone, and perhaps with all hands on board. All, save himself... No matter how much he may have hated it at times, that ship had been the like a home to him. No matter how horrible the crew may have treated him, they'd been the closest thing to family he'd ever known.  
  
Family...  
  
Captain Jacob...  
  
Mutiny.  
  
Tears streaked Jack's cheeks.  
  
Suddenly, the captain of 'Breakbone' stood before him, shaking him from his thoughts. A crew member was close behind, pulling Zero along on a makeshift leash of rope. The little dog struggled and whined all the while, totally disapproving of the situation.  
  
The captain knelt before him, seeming disgusted by the fact that Jack was weeping, but said nothing regarding such. "Apologies, lad." The captain stated, "But ye must understan'. Yeh were makin' quite th' racket in ye sleep an' kept slippin' outta the gag. Hadda shut ye up sum'ow."  
  
It was then that Jack came to the sickening realization that his mouth had been stitched shut while he was unconscious. He swallowed hard.  
  
The captain drew a long knife from his belt. Turning the blade this way and that for the light to play off of in a threatening manner, he continued, "Ye also have ta understan' our position, matey. I'll explain it all t'ye. Gots a proposition for yeh, lad." He brought the knife closer to Jack's face. The young man tried to jerk away from it, but he had nowhere to move to. Quickly, (and not exactly painlessly,) the stitching was snipped away from his mouth. Jack coughed and thrashed a bit before regaining himself. His dark eyes locked with the captain's, burning pure hatred into his soul.  
  
"Murderer." Jack growled lowly.  
  
"Ye have ta unerstan', lad." The captain stated again, but he wasn't allowed to continue.  
  
"Murderer!" Jack screamed this time, "We trusted you! How could you?!" He flung himself froward against his bounds, wanting nothing more than to throttle the life out of this man before him.  
  
The captain knew Jack couldn't reach him, but the unbridled hatred in this boy was far more than he'd ever seen before in his life. Instinctively, he pulled back. "Settle y'self, lad!"  
  
Jack ignored him thoroughly and continued trying against all logic to reach him. "Coward! We trusted you! With our lives, we did! Murdering scum! I'll kill you! I swear to it, I will!"  
  
At this, the captain stepped back and drew his pistol, raising the barrel towards Jack.  
  
"Aim for the heart." Jack said, still piercing the man with looks of pure hate, "You may as well finish it off!"  
  
The gunshot rang out across the beach, Jack's scream blending with it. The scribe slumped over, thick blood spilling from the hole in his chest.  
  
The captain had honored his request.  
  
"Dump 'im in a quicksand pit." The captain ordered over the panicked barking of Zero.  
  
Unable to move, Jack was unlashed from the tree by two men, who quickly started to drag him off.  
  
Zero still barked like mad, trying against all odds to free himself from the leash, to stop the men from taking his master away.  
  
"An' shut that mutt up!" The captain ordered, sounding very distant to Jack.  
  
Through blurred vision, the scribe saw a man draw his sword and raise it high above the frightened dog.  
  
...But before he could see any more, the darkness finally came to take Jack away...  
  
~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~ ...Death is Only the Beginning.... /\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~/\~\/~  
  
Story © Gina Trujillo, 2003. Jack Skellington and all related characters © Tim Burton. ________________________________________________________________________  
  
Ok, most of you are saying, "What?! It can't end like that!" Well, it does... and at the same time, a huge, resounding IT DOESN'T! After all, read the closing line!  
  
If you want to know what happens after this, jot on over to my other story, "The Road from Nowhere," which picks up a (kinda) short time after this... 


End file.
